Reckless Fire
by Lady Ava
Summary: PreFF7. Reno's backstory has always been a mystery. How exactly did the redhead become a Turk? Canon and noncanon aspects. No pairings.
1. Prologue

**Reckless Fire**

_A Final Fantasy VII fanfic_

By Lady Ava

**Author's Notes and Disclaimer**: This is an idea I've had for a while. I've always liked Reno, but he seems to be the one Turk that is very popular, but no one knows anything about him and where he was before Shin-ra. So, this is just my personal thoughts on it.

As always, I do not own Final Fantasy VII, any of the characters, settings, etc.

* * *

**Prologue**

"We're running late boss," a deep gruff voice muttered while exhaling on his cigarette. He was unclean and looked as if he hadn't changed his clothes in weeks. Blistered and dry-skinned fingers flicked the dead butt onto the wet pavement below as his beat up combat boots quickly stomped upon it, extinguishing it.

Behind one of the many bars of the slums was usually never patrolled by cops or the Shin-ra dogs. They knew too well that it was in indeed the territory of one of the larger gangs in Midgar. The ground was still wet from the recent rain that came through from the upper plate as two men stood outside underneath a single streetlamp. There was a door behind them, almost making them seem as if they were look-outs.

The man he spoke to eyed the ground where his comrade's shoe had stomped. His eyes were bloodshot has they hid slightly behind long greasy-looking black hair that fell over his shoulders. He was dressed in a long black trench coat with similar combat boots to his underling. Under his eyes, there were thick red lines that almost seemed slightly faded from years of being embedded onto this skin. Tossing his long mane over his shoulder, a small twisted grin came to his chapped lips. Looking out of the corner of his eye, the man chuckled a bit.

"This is worth being late," he spoke, his voice filled with a sickening sound of joy.

Curling his lip slightly, the underling spat at the words his boss spoke, "What the hell is so important about that twerpy kid?"

Once again, the man found himself chuckling, "I owe it to his old man to let him in. After all," he paused to remove a cigarette from the inside pocket of his coat. Lighting it, he took in a deep breath. Holding his breath for a moment, he exhaled into the low light of the alley, creating a small cloud around him. "he and I did start the 'Crimson Bloods.'"

The quietness of the alleyway was suddenly shattered by the sound of a high-pitched scream of pain. Looking at each other, the two couldn't help but let a snicker as the boss flicked his smoke away into the alley. As he turned to head back inside, he patting the lower man on the back with a grin, "It's always fun when they scream." He muttered moving back inside.

There were three lights in total within the small back room, all of which were angled down at a large table in the center. The other men of the gang encircled the lit area, watching the scene before them intently. There were a few chuckles exchanged as they watched, unable to do anything. One man sat hunched over the table, drawing something upon an individual that was strapped down under the lights. Leather belt straps locked the young man to the table by way of his wrists, ankles, torso and head.

"Damnit! You Bitch!" the young man cursed out, trying to move his body away from the needles that were being pressed into his skin beneath his eyes. His wild red hair fell on and off his face as small trickles of blood rolled down his cheeks mixed with his sweat. His lip was cut opened from trying to resist the urge to yell out. Blood was starting to drip onto the metal table as the needles dug deeper into the youth's flesh. Panting slightly, he glared over at the man above him, "Ya coulda given me something, yo."

Moving around the spectators, the boss laughed aloud as he listened to the youth whimper. A few of the other men glanced over at him, joining in on the snickers of their leader as they watched him move into the lit area of the room. Seeing the young man squirm was a sight that made this job almost seem worth it.

Coming up to the side of the table, the boss loomed over the boy's head, a smile forming on his face. As he watched the young man bleed, he placed a hand onto his shoulder, "So, how does it feel Reno?" he asked as the tools dug into the skin once again, "Does it make you feel like you have respect? Power?"

Opening his eyes slowly, Reno let them focus upon the above individual above him, "This….is….nothing…" he growled out, pain etched on every word, "It's….its what my….dad wanted."

Nodding at the words, the man released his shoulder and looked up to the rest of the room. "It will be good to have one of ya in the family again." He boasted, moving around to the table to the front, gaining a roar of cheers from the rest of the men. "Especially the son of my best friend."

Lifting his tools from Reno's face, the artist a small sigh escape him, "He's all done," he announced, wiping his brow off with his forearm.

A silence fell across the room as all eyes fell back to the table. The man stood from his chair, stretching out his back slightly. Leaning over Reno, he quickly removed the leather belts from around his body, arms, and legs. Seeing that the youth was just laying there, he reached down to help him up.

"I don't need help," Reno slurred, shoving the arm away from him. Sitting up slowly, the red head found himself struggling. He placed a hand over his face as he managed to bring himself come into an upright position. The feeling of sweat and blood began to cover his fingertips and palm. Under his eyes, he felt as if his skin was on fire. His breath was a bit heavy, trying to steady itself from screaming.

Removing his hand from his face, Reno looked up and let his piercing blue eyes dart about the room. There were smirks on some faces, while looks of surprise from others. Mumbles spread throughout the room as he moved to stand from the table slowing, making sure that he wouldn't sway or wobble on his feet.

"So, was that it?" he boasted, causing a wave of laughter to fill the room.

The boss smirked as he came to Reno's side, placing an arm around the boy's shoulders. "You're the image of your dad kid," he began, getting the murmurs of agreement from the men. "Consider this, the best thing that ever happened to ya."

As the other members of the gang came to pat him on the back or mess his short hair more, Reno couldn't help but smile. Being there in the Crimson Bloods was all he wanted since he was a kid; since his father had died. Those tattoos on his face were the sign of power and respect. After all, in Midgar, that's all a man could hope for.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Well, that's the beginning. Let me know what you think. Please Read and Review!


	2. Thoughts From The Past

**Author's Note**: I thought I would post up the next little bit of this story, just to see how it gets received. Please understand that this is slightly AU. So, enjoy.

**Reckless Fire**  
Chapter One  
Thoughts From The Past

Midgar was always a cold and dreary place whenever there was rain at night. The streets were flood as people scurried about franticly, trying to find shelter from the downpours. Lights from the buildings and neon signs reflected upon the cool moist ground, creating an interesting mix of light and water combined. Everything was dreary as one man hurried into his apartment, his energy the complete opposite of the area surrounding him

* * *

"Ma!" a young man's voice called as he burst through the door of the small two room apartment. For someone in his late teens, he had the looks of someone in their mid-twenties. Thick and unkempt red hair hung wildly in his face, as if he was trying to hide his brilliant blue eyes from others. His pale skin was covered by a heavy, rather beaten up leather trench coat which was covered in tiny droplets of rain. 

Running into room, he looked directly in front of him at a small table where a woman sat quietly drinking tea. Her graying hair framed her slightly wrinkled face as she looked up at the teen, a smile appearing upon her tired looking features. She was dressed in a bathrobe, waiting for him to return so she could head to bed.

"What's all the commotion Reno?" she asked, taking her cup into her hands.

Shaking the rain from his mane of hair, Reno moved quickly into room, not even bothering to look up at the woman as he passed by. "Its finally happened Ma! The day I've been waiting for."

The older woman watched as her son rushed over to the desk that sat in the corner of the room. He began looking through the drawers franticly, as if looking for something extremely important. He was always so easily excited when something he wanted came into view. Ambition was the one trait his father and him had always shared.

"What on earth are you talking about sweetie?" she inquired, returning her glance to her tea.

Turning away from ripping apart the drawers, Reno gave his mother a huge smile. "Dad's old friend finally called! He wants me to go meet him and the other guys tonight down near the bar! They want me in!"

At those very words, Reno's mother dropped her cup of tea onto the table, spilling the hot water everywhere. Her eyes widened as her muscles tensed as she watched her son resume looking through the desk. "You're not going Reno." She spoke firmly, ignoring the fact the water was now dripping onto the floorHalting once again, Reno quickly turned around on his heels, "What?! What do you mean?!" he shouted, surprise written all over his face. "It's the Crimson Bloods Ma! Dad would want me to—"

"You will never get anywhere in life if you run off with those people!" his mother screamed back, rising from the table abruptly. She was clearly angry, but her eyes fell weak on him, thinking over all of the potential possibilities that this would bring. "What could you possibly gain from—"

"You don't get it ma!" the fiery red head growled, turning back to the desk. He moved on to the last drawer, pulling out photos, papers, and random stationary items the throwing them onto the floor. "This is for our own good! Me going with them could maybe one day can give us some damn respect again! We, _you_, deserve that Ma!" But the woman shook her head at his words. Crossing her arms in front of her, she glanced off to the side, averting her eyes to the ground and at the old photos that were carelessly tossed. "So, you want to end up like your father?"

Reno froze in his spot over the now disorganized drawer. His eyes widened as he gripped the sides of the drawer tightly, making his knuckles turn white. In an over view, he should have realized that she would have pulled out that card on him as an attempt to make him stay away. His father had been killed while hanging around with those men; caught in a crossfire between their group and SOLDIER on a night similar to this one. Reno was still young, so he didn't understand the whole situation. All he knew was that someday, he would continue on in his father's 'line of work'. Glancing off to the side, Reno could see the photos that he had carelessly tossed off to the side not even moments ago. His father's picture sat right next to his foot, his eyes piercing upward as if looking at his son. It was uncanny how much Reno looked like his old man. They shared the same smirk and unkempt head of hair; even how they stood was almost as if they were twins. But there was one thing that was separated his father from him: The tattoos. Underneath each of his father's eyes, there were thin strips of red, symbolizing the mark of the Crimson Bloods. His father and his long time friend who only went by Cash were the two who started the small gang. It was mostly about territory and wanting to be higher on the food chain than others in Midgar. Since Shin-ra had gained control of everything, eighty percent of the city's residents were now living in low laying slums below the plate. And, in his father's eyes, it was every man for himself.

Looking down into the drawer, Reno saw before him what he had been franticly searching for. There, in an old cigar box, whose lid had long since fallen off, was a small black gun. It was covered in a thin layer of dust, for it hadn't left that spot since his father had died. There was a small box of ammo sitting next to it, some of the bullets where missing from it.

Reaching down, Reno took up the weapon into his hands. He examined it carefully as he turned to face his mother once more, whose expression of anger became clouded by fear.

"How….how long have you know that was there?" she whispered, taking a small step back towards the table.

Looking up, Reno's piercing blue eyes looked directly into his mother's, "Why does that matter?" he asked, adjusting the weapon into his hand, his finger resting outside the trigger. "It was his. He would want me to have it."

"Put it down Reno." The mother moved forward towards the teenager, her hand outstretched, "Reno listen to me. You are making a huge mistake. Those men were no friends to your father. They left him bleeding in the street that night. You have absolutely no idea how they operate." She began to ramble, moving slowly towards him.

"You….you don't know that! You weren't there!" Reno protested, keeping the weapon at his side.

"They are trying to manipulate you the same way they did your father!" she pressed on, moving even closer to him, "They'll make you think you have friends for life and that you have all the respect in the world. Then, just as soon as things get bad, they will dump you as if you're dead weight."

Reno shook his head, "But….they said,"

"Who are you going to believe?" she asked, placing her hands onto her son's shoulders.

Looking into her eyes, Reno could see what looked like the truth. He wanted to believe her and he knew she would not lie to him. And yet, his thoughts kept going back down to the weapon in his hand. He could feel the cool metal of the gun as he tightened his grip around the handle. They promised him that it would all work out for his advantage in the end. That if he came, he would be doing his father proud.

So lost in his own thoughts, he didn't realize his mother reached out to take hold of the gun. He could hear her telling him to hand over the gun and that they would sit and talk. How it was going to be okay and how she would think of something to solve this whole thing once and for all.

As soon as he felt the tight grasp of her hand upon his own, Reno felt himself jump. So quick was he to try and move, he failed to remember the placement of his fingers. He jerked his arm away, applying pressure into every single finger.

Before he could even come to terms with pulling away, the smell of smoke filled his nose. An expected rush of pain coursed up and down his hand and arm. The backlash made him stumble backwards into the desk, knocking the lamp off the edge and to the floor. He tossed his hair from his face as he looked back into the room, his eyes widening.

There, on the ground in an awkward lumped position, was his mother. A small trickle of blood came rolling down the side of her once cheerful face. Her hair was messed and fell into her opened eyes, which had shock embedded in them. Around her, the wooden floor of the room was slowly becoming stained in a deep red. All of the photos and papers he had thrown out of the desk were now slowly becoming stained and discolored by the woman's blood as it flowed out of the opened hole in her chest.

Reno's hand began to tremble as he released the gun. It clattered to the floorboards with a loud thud. He looked into the lifeless eyes of his mother, shock beginning to set in. His breath began to grow heavy as he stumbled away from the desk and towards the door. Deep down, he wanted to go back to her. He would sit there and waited for the police to come and take him. It was an accident and nothing more.

He staggered into the hallway, falling into the opposite wall of his apartment door. It was a dimly lit corridor, with only a few flickering lights mounted upon the walls. Regaining his balance, Reno moved quickly down the hallways for the stairs. The shot was probably heard by the people living in the building, so he had to move. That was the only thought that came to mind. He had to run away and not get caught for what had happened.

The teen ran down the stairs as fast as his legs could take him, skipping steps where he could. Bursting out of the buildings main doors, Reno was met with heavy rains. His clothes were almost instantly soaked once more as he walked out onto the sidewalk. Looking about, he could hear the sounds of sirens off in the distance. Turning in the opposite direction, Reno took off.

He wasn't sure how many blocks he had ran before he couldn't go any farther. As he rounded a corner, he found himself in a dead end alleyway. There were wet cardboard boxes and trashcans scattered about, almost making him trip as he moved to sit. As he panted for air, Reno could see his own breath because of the cold night air. He brought his knees up to his chest and rested his head into them, letting his pants become quiet sobs. But no one could hear him as he was drowned out by the sounds of the sirens in the distance and the continuous falling of the rain.

* * *

**Author's Note**: Hope you enjoyed it. Please Read and Review.


End file.
